Worth it
by Raining Sky Guy
Summary: Being a hunter isn't always easy. So when Sam starts to notice Dean seems to be taking a turn for the worse, he decides to do something about it. Though, easier said than done, right? Fluff. Oneshot.


**Title:** Worth it

 **Summary:** Being a hunter isn't always easy. So when Sam starts to notice Dean seems to be taking a turn for the worse, he decides to do something about it. Though, easier said than done, right? Fluff. Oneshot.

 **AN.** Hello, first time in the SPN fandom. Nice to meet you. Here, have some fluff.

It's somewhere in S2, but it doesn't really matter, story-wise.

Enjoy.

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* * *

Dean was upset.

Or more like, Dean was upset _again._

Sam frowned to the reflection of his brother on the window. Ever since Dad died Dean seemed to be… brooding. Morose…

Desperate.

Yeah, that was more like it. Too happy, too aggressive one moment, then in the blink of an eye he's clammed up in this invisible shell of his. Erratic. He was angry too. Sam had thought at first that at what had killed their dad or at John himself but… he- Everything angered him.

"Fucking traffic at this hour! We're on a deadline here, gentlemen! Get the fuck out of my way!" He shouted to no one in particular, hitting the wheel harshly, his frame tense.

It made Sam wonder who he was really mad at. If it had been at dad, Dean would've stopped mentioning him. But he still did. If it had been at the thing that killed dad, they'd be on their way to hunt that thing, no matter what. It wasn't that everything angered him. No, that was not quite it either-

"I'm going there, Sammy. So you better aim carefully or else the spirits gonna get me." His brother had a big wide — _hysterical, insane—_ smile and gleefully glinting eyes.

No, wait, he did get angered more easily nowadays, but the worrying part was that, he no longer seemed to… to _care_. About himself, mostly. His motto seemed to be 'the more danger the better'.

Whatever the thing they were hunting, Dean just… revealed himself in the hunt. To be honest it scared him. Not his brother, but his actions, his words…

A lot of times he seemed to scream, 'Nobody cares about me', 'I'm worthless', 'I don't care any longer'. And the most persistent,

" _I'm tired."_ He had told him once, just once, before grinning and joking and changing the subject after a few awkward moments. Sam had let him, because he did not know what to do. But the day he woke up earlier without making a sound he had been frightened to see his brother holding his head in his hands as if in pain, but before a frozen Sam could shout to him, he muttered to himself,

" _I can't do this anymore."_

And that was it. Dean lifted his face with determination, slapped his cheeks to get himself into attention before stretching all grace and fluidity and Sam had approximately two seconds to school his features and rub his eyes and yawn and ask what time it was.

Dean gave him his usual lopsided smile, before stating that it was time to go.

It was enough.

He had no idea what, but he _needed to do something._

And thus began the attempts of Sam Winchester at trying to cheer his brother up without him noticing so.

* * *

"Hey, uh, Dean," he asked, glancing once at him before pointedly staring at the road. Okay this was easy. He said it a lot when they were kids. The aforementioned male lowered the music and hummed questioningly. "You know I…"—' _I love you, Dean.' —"_ I-I was thinking, we've encountered so many nasty lore. I wonder if there's anything good alive. Good as in not trying to kill us."

That deserved an 'IDIOT' with capital letters.

"…Well, not sure what's your sudden interest, but think we could count those vampires that tried to feed on you, but ultimately didn't."

I-D-I-O-T.

* * *

"Here," Sam slid a beer in his brother's hand as he took a good swig of his own bottle. Dean blinked up in surprise at him, grinning, obviously preparing to spout some joke but Sam beat him to it.

"I thought you'd get abstinence syndrome otherwise since we're not going to the bar tonight." He deadpanned and once again cut the other off by bringing his beer forward, to bump it against the other's. Dean looked somewhat between bemused and confused. "Cheers."

"What for? You discovering your vocation as waitress? If so, I'm sad to say you lack the tits necessary for-"

" _Cheers,_ you jerk, for another successful hunt."

Something seemed to ease inside his brother as surprise crossed his face.

To be honest it hurt Sam to see how such small words could cheer him so much.

Still, he took what he could.

* * *

"-m, no, wai-! Sammy! Sammy!"

Sam woke up to the shouts as he sprung to his feet in an ingrained instinct born out of countless times he had needed to move out of the way before he opened his eyes. He blinked around in the predawn light to see no ferocious werewolves or Djinn or Yaksha or generic demon or anything.

Just Dean shaking in his bed.

"'ean? Dean?" He whispered, hurrying to his brother's side to shake him awake. "Come on, it's a dream dude, wake up."

At the hand on his shoulders he stopped calling out and at the sound of his voice Dean started relaxing still not awake. Though as soon as he seemed to be alright, Sam tried to leave, to catch up on a few more hours of sleep… but the immediate distress of his older brother had him taking a seat beside him again.

"Hey, calm down. It's just a dream, Dean." He murmured, resting a hand against his shoulder again. This seemed to be enough, but this time Sam did not try to leave. He knew the other would get restless again. And well, for once, he didn't care.

At one point, he snapped out of his semi-doze when Dean restarted with his twitching and mumbling.

"What are you? A baby with cramps?" Sam groaned, exasperated and amused despite everything. But he dutifully began to hum, paying attention to the mumbles, the mantra of "myfaultmyfaultmyfault" and the random "die" and "fair" thrown here and there and wondering what was going around in his idiot of a brother's mind.

"It's not your fault, you dumbass. I don't care what the fuck you're dreaming about but it sure ain't your fault." Silence, then a quiet whimper that sounded suspiciously like his own name. "What?" He answered reflexively.

"'t leaveme."

"I won't. I promise."

You fucking idiot, Dean.

* * *

When Dean started stirring in a completely different manner, Sam jerked awake abruptly, blinking the sleep away and stumbled in the suddenly too-bright room to the bathroom to keep up appearances. There was no way he was going to let Dean see him there like some weirdo! He'd never get to live it down with some stupid nonsense like 'little Sammy had bad dreams? Aww'. Though if the older Winchester didn't fool around it would be way more awkward. So Sam said nothing as well on Dean's dreams-

"Man, you look like crap you know that?"

"No. I did not. Thank you for the info." He snapped back grouchily enough, sleepy and tired and his back aching from being semi-hunched for such a long time.

"Geez, looks like someone woke up from the wrong side of the bed." Dean had the gall to look like the older-brother-putting-up-with-pain-in-the-ass-little-bro. Well, screw him. He was tired because of _him_.

"Shut up. I'mma sleep now. So don't bother me." Sam grumbled as he turned on his side on the Impala's front seat. He closed his eyes but promptly kept sleep at bay at the sudden silence.

"…No but seriously, is this about Jessica again?"

Sam started heaving a long-suffering sigh —even as the usual tinge of pain crossed his chest at the memories, always fresh, always there— and Dean seemed to take it the wrong way.

"C'mon man, I know it still bothers you. And the best way to deal with stuff like this is talking about it."

' _Since when do_ you _talk about your own problems?'_ He thought with annoyance before turning to face his brother.

"I didn't dream with Jessica. I just… I don't know, I couldn't fall asleep for some reason." ' _More precisely_ your _fault. But whatever.'_ Sam said —and thought —half-heartedly, relieved that Dean seemed to take his word for it.

"So then, Sammy is insomniac?" He cranked a grin, looking back to the road and to him with relatively good humor. But his grin dropped in place of confusion at his little brother's wide eyes. "What? What's wrong, Sam?"

The younger Winchester sibling spent all of a minute looking at his brother before starting to laugh. He turned away to hide his relieved face.

Dean was calm. Dean looked _happy_.

"Uh, dude?"

"It's nothing. I was just thinking if we could not hunt anything today?"

"Sam, you know it's our job to-"

"And we deserve our unpaid vacations more than anyone else. Come on, man, just one day. Just chill, have a beer, some fun. Maybe a girl… Win some games…"

There was no way they were hunting today. Somehow, for some reason, Dean seemed almost light and there was a high chance he'd go on a hunt and ruin that —whatever that was.

It wouldn't last. The life they led was harsh, and eventually Dean would once again forget to be happy. So Sam was going to do his damn best to keep his idiotic brother from drowning in despair.

Least he could do.

"I'm starting to like this idea, oh, hey, how about-"

"Sure, Dean." He answered automatically as he reclined on the seat, sleep all but forgotten now. The trip was spent with them laughing and bickering and relatively relaxing in each other's presence.

* * *

"Oh, god…thif if fo good…" Dean moaned, with half a hamburger already inside his mouth. Sam made his patented disgusted face before deciding to ignore his brother. "So? What made you finally surrender to these god-sent goodies? Thought you didn't like them?"

"Felt like it." The longer-haired Winchester smiled guilelessly before adding "And you always whine about wanting more food. This garbage at least is cheap."

"Hey! Don't offend my food!" Dean said indignantly, before chugging down his soda and burping satisfactorily. The other openly scowled. "Sorry."

"God, have some manners!" He snapped before sighing as his brother messed his package to see if there was any particle of hamburger he had missed. "Here, eat up." He said, offering him his semi-open grease-thing. He was pretty sure that wasn't really a burger.

"Nah, it's yours. You haven't eaten anything right?"

"Ate the fries. I can already feel the fat in my veins…" He dramatized with a smile, and huffing, Dean accepted the thing. As he wolfed down the food, Sam noticed the drooping of his eyes, the way his face grew drowsy. He silently arched his eyebrows, unimpressed.

"Dean?"

"Hmmm-?"

"Let's go back to the motel."

"What are you saying? It's midday, Sammy!" The older Winchester immediately protested, scowling at him in confusion.

"I'm tired. I want to catch up on my sleep." Sam lied, changing the _I_ to _you_ in his mind for his own amusement.

"Aww is baby Sammy going to take a nap?"

"Ha- _ha_ , hilarious. Drive." Sam deadpanned, and after grinning, the older man drove them to the motel they were staying at.

Only for him to crash within the following five minutes, much to Sam's amusement.

"Nah, you're definitively the baby."

* * *

The purring of the car made a nice backdrop. Sam thought as for once the music was absent from their drive. They had just hunted down another vengeful spirit, coming out relatively unscathed and the tension was back on Dean like a bad cold.

Why Dean?

"Hey?" Sam started in an almost mumble, Dean minutely shifted his head to say he had heard,

"Hm?"

"Uh, I just wanted to… thank you?" The words came much too awkward god knows why. He cleared his throat and continued, noticing Dean's arched eyebrows. "Thank you for everything, I guess. Being here with me and always helping me out."

Sam then blinked unimpressed as the car started to lose speed. He rolled his eyes already expecting Dean's-

" _Christo_."

"Do you want me to attack you before or after you stop the car?" Sam asked sarcastically only to snap out of it at Dean's tightening of the wheel. "Dean…?"

His eyes were lost, seemingly not there.

"Hey, dude? Dean!" The long-haired Winchester called him, trying to get the frantic tone out of his voice. Dean didn't even seem to notice he was shouting until a good while later.

"Hu-what-?"

Sam faltered. "You… spaced out."

He blinked, licked his lips. "Oh, yeah, sorry about that." He said with his eyes on the road yet unseeing. Sam had no clue what that had been, nor what he was supposed to do. But somehow, he seemed to have screwed up.

"Dean?"

"What?"

"…" For some reason, Sam couldn't say it anymore.

Why, Dean?

"What is it, Sammy?"

"It's Sam."

"Whatever you say, Sammy." Dean feigned a smile, looking back at the road. "So, what is it?"

"What was that about?" Sam huffed, not sure what was going on any longer. "What was that, Dean?"

"What was what?"

"You spaced out." He repeated, not sure… "Why?"

"Uh…because I got distracted?"

Sam chewed on the inside of his mouth, pondering if this was the right moment to pry. Meanwhile, his brother's shoulders keep getting tenser by the minute.

"Wanna talk about why you got distracted?"

"Aw, com'on man, don't start on your psychiatrist sessions! Save it for the next bambi-eyed chick that throws herself at you." The Winchester exclaimed giving him an irritated glance. His right hand going for the radio.

"Dean…" The younger male started exasperatedly, but his words got cut short as the volume of the music reached its maximum level.

He scowled at the window for the duration of the trip.

* * *

It had been another hunt and they were relaxing in the closest bar. Or trying to anyway.

"Ever thought about getting another girl?" Dean finally spoke surprisingly coherent despite being drunk off his ass. Sam shook his head briefly to clear his mind as he too had been drinking —much less though.

"Are you still going on about that? I don't need 'another girl' Dean! I'm not like you!" He exclaimed with exasperation, with not only Jessica on his mind now. He narrowed his eyes at the pain that flitted across his brother's face before he downed his next shot. "If you pass out, I'm _not_ going to drag you ass to the room, Dean." He threatened untruthfully.

"It's not about- I don't want you to get with a hooker or something like that." The man mumbled, frowning slightly at his empty vase. "You… I think you deserve better."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sam you… you deserve a… someone to be by your side, to be with you… Like a wife 'nd stuff…"

"Dean, we are _not_ having this conversation." Sam complained, trying to ignore the seriousness of the deal. To ignore his feeling of being a monster. To ignore the reality. Heck, this wasn't even supposed to be about him. Dean was getting upset again and Sam had decided to get him to relax a while. Talking about which… "Besides, I already have you with me. We're brothers, y'know?"

"Dammit, Sam it's not the same!" And even a bit drunk, Sam was scared of the desperate tone poisoning the other's voice slowly. Bit by bit. "D'ya think I don't notice? I don't worry? You've changed, Sammy!" He half-shouted, bursting out of his seat, "Jessica's death changed you a lot more than you think! You need someone to love and to love you back! Or even just- just- I don't know man! This is-! I see you and I- You have to move on…"

"Sit back down, Dean." Sam muttered brokenly, clearing his throat as his brother slumped in his seat again. Fuck, why did this bastard have to get all big-brotherly with him despite he himself suffering from something Sam had no idea of?

"Why are you so desperate about me?"

"One of us has to keep on living, Sammy." Dean started, and raised his hand to calm him when the younger sibling rose to his feet, enraged, "Sorry, don't mean it that way. I'm- uh, I mean, I'm not made for married life and having brats and all that. You're already a perfect father and husband. Though, admittedly you'd have more trouble making your kids than I would." Here he cracked a soft grin, but Sam did not say anything.

Dean's mouth closed and silence reigned in their little bubble of space. Sam could feel tears of frustration welling up in his eyes.

Dean, you liar.

"Why do you care so much about me?"

"Are you an idiot? You're my lil'bro, Sammy. It's my job to take good care of you."

"Don't worry so much about me and worry some more about your own fucking self!" Sam slammed his hands down on the table, making the glasses tremble and Dean's eyes widen. "Is that so goddamned hard to do?!"

"Sam, don't be ridiculous… I have to protect you…

"I'm not gonna screw this one up. And well, I worry only about you because…

"I don't…really deserve it."

And then Dean lowered his head so he could rest it against the table, dead-tired.

"I'm sorry, Sammy."

"Shut up, asshole." Sam muttered back, before deciding to go over to his brother and pat him on the back. "You deserve happiness too, Dean. Let me help you with that. You've always been there for me. Whenever I wanted you to be or not. So, let me be there for you too, dude. You're my brother and I love you and I care for you despite you being a major jackass.

"I'm not planning on ever leaving you alone. So you better suck it up."

Dean choked and coughed and Sam's only regret was that he couldn't quite hug his brother with him still sitting. He settled for squeezing his shoulder, besides that was less awkward long-term.

* * *

Dean did not think he was worth saving. Or that he should stay alive. Dean also treated his own life as if it meant nothing. And some things he had let slip allowed Sam to conclude that something must have happened after or before or even during John's disappearance and Dean's brush with Death.

"Not your fault." Sam hashed out, filling the words with the double meaning of whatever had happened in the hospital and the nasty gash the satyr had given him. Dean made him turn his neck so he could properly evaluate the damage, clicking his tongue at his words.

"I think you should go back to the motel while I hunt this motherfucker down." The older male stated in a tense voice as he allowed Sam to bat his hands away.

"I'm not leaving you to handle this alone!" Sam exclaimed immediately.

" 'Cause passing out while walking is the best help I need." Dean muttered with raised eyebrows as he finished loading his gun

"It's not even that deep! It's not bleeding. Unlike you, I know my limits."

"Sure you do, Sammy." Dean conceded with an amused smile before frowning. "Now go back."

If anything, what the whole Winchester family shared was their sheer bullheadedness. Both of them cornered the satyr, rescued an unlucky fellow and finished the job cleanly. Sam stayed throughout the whole event and Dean did not stop glowering at him in silence.

He got his pay-back however, when back at the hospital, as they cleaned and stitched the cut, Dean wove an incredibly embarrassing —and untrue— story of how Sam had ended up with that gash to the giggling nurse.

Bastard.

* * *

Sam blearily opened his eyes, sighing from his chest as he blinked the sleep away. Dean was staring at him. Sam blinked quickly, already confused despite not being awake for more than five seconds.

"Dean?" He managed to croak out. His brother smiled cheekily.

"Hey, bitch."

"What the- It's too early for…" The youngest Winchester tried to find words about how out-of-the-blue this was, but he trailed off at Dean's amused and expectant face. "…Jerk."

"Did you have a nice dream?" The short-haired brother inquired, still smiling in that idiotic way of his —not even bothering packing up. Sam started to get suspicious.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, but then he tried to recall what he had been dreaming about… and came out with nothing at all.

"Hmm, I wonder." Dean unhelpfully supplied with a hum, still unable and unwilling to wipe that smug grin off his face. "But man, I bet you were made of sugar, spice and everything nice."

"What?" Sam asked in his patented I-do-not-understand-whatever-stupid-thing-came-out-of-your-mouth. But then he seemed to catch on and he sobered up, highly worried. "Dean..." He began, "was I sleep-talking?"

Dean's face-splitting smile was answer enough. When two or three chuckles managed to escape him, his younger brother already felt his face heating up.

"What did I say?" He demanded to know, as his brother took that as his cue to start packing. "Dean!"

"You said it, not me. Better luck at asking yourself, honestly." Dean replied smugly enough, tossing his little brother some of his clothes with a fond look.

"Don't be an asshat and just answer me! What was I saying?"

But as Sam continued trying to figure out what he had said and being absolutely mortified for not remembering, Dean finally finished stuffing his duffel full. Heaving his things on a shoulder he strode for the door. At the threshold he paused and looked back.

"Hey," he called at his only brother. Sam's sulk disappeared at glancing once at his serious face. "I love you, Sammy. Never forget that. And…

"Thank you. For everything."

 _For being born. For being my brother. For staying with me. For caring for me. For cheering me up. For even trying. Thank you for everything and more._

Dean exited the room.

* * *

Sam could say with full certainty that his ability on cheering someone up was clearly substandard at best. Besides the whole ordeal being tiresome as hell. But as the young man stared at his happily humming brother as they hit the road again, he decided that it was worth it.

Every smile of Dean was worth it.

Fin

* * *

I was trying to write fluff. I swear! Hahahaha, I have no idea why this abruptly took a long dive. May I say that I currently hate the Winchester brothers? I just- I can't deal with them. And I'm just barely starting with S3! (Don't believe me; they bring out the best angst ever. I'm obsessed with them.)

Btw, is the cover picture too angsty for this story? Or is it alright?

My condolences for those of you that reached the S10 finale. Your suffering has reached all heights of the internet xD.

Do leave a review with your thoughts.


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